


Release

by SunstainedRadical



Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: M/M, Marijuana, NSFW, Recreational Drug Use, Stan O' War II, Suicide mention, hot old men fuckin, sloppy makeout sesh, stanchez, stanchez bang, zealously repressed old men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-23 17:07:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8335612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunstainedRadical/pseuds/SunstainedRadical
Summary: Adrift off the Floridian shore, the zealously repressed old men Stan and Rick ruminate about the ardor and darkness they've experienced throughout their lives together and apart, and then have themselves a surreal sex session, wasted in time, memories, and sensations.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My fic for the stanchez bang. *NSFW, Suicide mention and recreational drug use warnings*. 
> 
> Also I made playlists for this fic cuz I love music.
> 
> Playlist 1: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL9Fb5xvmAlUC9bPUqF9FdBn2VlR_MW-Py
> 
> Playlist 2: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL9Fb5xvmAlUAKptPWfwgLwAZ4iehMr54j

Watching the saffron sun drift beneath the horizon, a pair of weathered eyes timidly stared up as the first stars of the night sky made themselves visible. Disheveled from time and immersed in contemplation, these deep brown eyes were not focused upon the majestic sky, rather, the memories that the sky evoked. A cool subtropical breeze billowed across these sunstained, marooned eyes causing them to reflexively blink. Upon reopening, the eyes started to tear up, partially due to the sudden winds, but partially due to the pain. The eyes’ proprietor released an unconventional sort of whimper. A distressed, embarrassed, ashamed weeping. One humiliated by the fact that he was crying. Softly weeping from a lifetime of both rapture and anguish, Stan Pines wiped the few stray tears with his shirt sleeve, and let out a quavery sigh. He couldn’t believe that after sixty three years, he still had energy to cry over things in the past, resolved things; things that shouldn’t trouble a man of his age. If anything, he should be fretting the future, not the past. 

Taking another shaky breath, Stan closed his eyes again and began to reminisce, resting his stocky arms on his stomach, letting the steady back and forth of the boat take him into a dream. A twisted, surreal dream. One construed from a vast quantity of dark, somewhat forgotten recollections strewn across his cavernous mindscape. The more he recalled, the more it stung. The sting was not entirely painful however; rather it was a zealous sting which opened up an old, forgotten wound whose concealed emotion provoked other forgotten wounds to open and fester. 

As the old man lay motionless, sprawled upon his lawn chair for what seemed like hours, the echoes of a distant other could be heard, raving about something. Another man, slimmer than Stan, moseyed over to him while coughing and laughing, trying to say something. His slender upper body was clothed by a downy Hawaiian shirt and his lower body was attired in low-hanging grey sweatpants which sunk ever so slightly around his waist. With a rainbow-colored bong in one hand, the man coolly pulled himself into Stan’s view and asked, “You fuckin r-ready to get riggedy-riggedy wrecked tonight, fucker?” 

Stan gave a small but genuine laugh. Only Rick’s dopey ass could snap him out of a funk. But he still felt stressed. Something inside of him was burning and he didn’t know why.

“Stan?”  
Stan snapped out of his thoughts and gazed up at Rick who was standing over him.

“How’re you feeling?” Rick asked, concerned, putting down the rainbow bong.

“Uhm, I-I’m alright,” Stan replied, brushing his cheeks with his left hand in an effort to remove any sign of crying, trying to think of a way to explain himself.

“Doesn’t look like it, hotstuff,” Rick smirked while gently pressing his weight down on Stan’s broad shoulders. Rick gestured to the room within the ship with a devilish gleam in his reddened eyes, “Why don’t we go and make things alright, babe?”

Stan gave a chuckle, but something inside of him still burned with a sense of urgency, something felt wrong. He felt lost again, the same kind of neglect he’d felt in his twenties resurfaced. A lonely life of drugs, isolation, destruction and failure permeated his mind, attacking him with the same guilt-stricken claustrophobia of his youth he’d always repressed. 

When he felt Rick’s lips gingerly press into his own, Stan snapped out of his thoughts in an instant. Something so bewitching about the chilly winds enhanced the kiss. Returning the favor, Stan kissed back and placed his right hand in Rick’s messy cerulean hair and ran his fingers through it. What seemed like an eternal kiss finally stopped and Stan found himself looking into Rick’s bloodshot eyes again, but this time Rick’s eyes were sympathetic. 

“Look, Lee,” he ventured, his emblazoned red eyes now transfixed into Stan compassionately, “I-I know how you feel. And I’m not gonna pretend like I know w-what you’re going through because I don’t. B-But Stan y-y-you’ve gotta realize that we’re safe. We’ve won and we have each other now. Even after all those goddam years on the run or working on the portal or spent apart. I love you so goddamn much and I-I’m here for you. And no matter how much it hurts, I’ll be here for you, always. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

Stan silently stared at the man in wonder for a moment and spoke, “I…I don’t know where I’d be without you either Rick.” 

And with that, Stan surged himself into Rick, giving him a long, passionate kiss. Closing his eyes ever so serenely, Stan felt his body burn up as the sensations inside of him seemed to explode. Everything that he’d feared in his youth, his self depreciation, his envy, all of his insecurity and intrinsic fear of the future disintegrated into happiness. He was free. There was nothing to fear. He was in love. He was released. And to assert this new liberty, he bit down on Rick’s lips causing him to let out a sedated whimper. And time slowed down again.

Interrupted by a sudden gust of wind, Rick pulled away and stood up. He grabbed the rainbow bong off the ground by the chair and spoke ever so mesmerically to Stan. “Come on Casanova, let’s get inside the ship. It’s our last day out at sea after all, let’s make it last.”

Stan gave a gruff chuckle in response. The seductive, alluring look in Rick’s eyes sent shivers up Stan’s spine and in an instant, his swanky confidence resurfaced, “Gimme that bong Casanova. Lemme show you how a real man gets what he wants.”

“Hell yeah, Mr. Mystery!” Rick hollered, “That’s what I like to hear!”

The old men’s amateur efforts at a smoke-off were short lived. One bong hit turned to two; two turned to four; four turned to six; and then the weed was gone, the bong empty. Laughter subsequently filled the windy air, primarily from Rick who could not stop laughing at how dopily Stan tried to maneuver his stocky body across the boat. Before Stan knew it, any semblance of adroitness he had faded to full-blown ecstasy as the world around him seemed to liquefy into a melting pot of love ad passion. Paired with the potent amber of the sunset, the dark turquoise-pink of Rick’s faded Hawaiian shirt became exaggerated into a glaringly luminous cesspool of sensational color. 

Wasted in time, Stan moaned as he felt Rick suck violently on his throat without warning. It was a rough sucking too, his teeth gnawed and rubbed against Stan’s thick skin, coating his neck with spit. Stan craned his neck up in an effort to give Rick more space to lick. He placed his large hand on the back of Rick’s head, tugging and ruffling up his hair to compensate for the immense pleasure he felt. The billowing ocean breeze sent a fervent tingling through both the old men’s spines and gave them goosebumps as they straddled up against one another in surreal elucidation. The chills took their toll on Rick’s patience.

Rick pulled away, “C-Come on Lee, let’s g-go ins-s-side and fuck.”

Stan tried to respond, but could only give a monotone grunt in response. 

In a bouncy stupor, Stan wrapped his arms around Rick and dragged him across the ship while forcibly sucking on his neck. How they made it to the queen size bed in such a short time was a mystery all on its own. In no time, Stan worked off Rick’s Hawaiian shirt while Rick moved himself behind his lover and once again bore his teeth into his rough skin, turning the backside of his neck a scarlet red which would be sure to bruise a dark hue of violet in the morning. 

With Stan totally in a state of love-ridden sedation, Rick clawed his way up his lover’s broad shoulders until he reached the collar of his washed out burgundy Hawaiian shirt. Stan jerked his neck forward as Rick pulled the shirt off of him, freeing his stocky upper body. Staring intently at Rick with an ever so amorous smile, Stan worked off his shirt in an instant and wasted no time stripping his lover down to his light green underwear. Rick noticed Stan hungrily eyeing his cock and quickly interfered. “Whoa there Pines, lemme see yours first.”

To assert himself, Rick surged his weight into Stan in an effort to attain dominance, catching his lover off guard. He dragged Stan’s black pants to the ground revealing a pair of cerulean blue boxer shorts. Rick then pulled himself away from Stan’s arms and looked at him lustfully, his cheeks burning red. His hands moved to his underwear as he rolled them down his slender legs and tossed them on the ground. Stan proceeded to do the same.

“Hey Sanchez,” Stan called out, tossing his boxers aside. He reached on the top of the dresser for some lube, and applied it to his tip. “You gonna quit the foreplay or what?” he asked with a newfound seriousness.

“Depends,” Rick tantalized, “You gonna ask nice?” Or are we gonna have to do this the hard way?” Mesmerized in time, the two stared at eachother ravenously for what felt like an eternity.

“C’mere you sexy bastard you,” Stan finally said, “Y’know how bad I need ya.”

Something inside of Stan propelled him into Rick. It wasn’t a violent propulsion, but one which caught Rick off guard and knocked him to the bed. A fervid burning sensation, perhaps amplified by the weed, had propelled him. And in a sweaty mess, the two finally embraced eachother with a burning ardor and adrenaline that had built up over a lifetime. 

Rick’s high-pitched screams filled the air as he felt Stan enter his hole. After all of the years he could still feel the same sexual pleasure he had in his youth, if not magnified. Rick clawed and licked his lover’s chest, sucking ever so demurely on his nipples while Stan’s thrusts grew stronger and stronger. The sound of lovemaking echoed through the night sky.

“Christ Rick.” Stan yelled, “Yer gonna make me blow my load.”

“Mmmm, k-kkeep going babe” was all Rick could say. 

And after some of the most hard, intense fucking he’d ever felt, and Stan’s spine-tingling screams of dominance, Rick felt a warm flood of cum. In an instant, he felt Stan’s meaty hand on his hard cock, jacking him off. When he came, Rick buried his head into Stan’s chest, wrapping his long arms around him and shrieking as loud as his old lungs would allow.  
After their climax, the two men lay motionless on the bed for a few minutes, both tired and lost in rumination. Transfixed in time, Rick felt flashbacks of his youth inundate his mind. Back in the town of Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey, there had been a teenage boy, kicked out of his house and emotionally distraught. His one true childhood friend had took him in for the night. But when the renegade left the house in the dead hours of the night, his friend had to follow him. He followed him up to the cold, steel highway bridge which crossed an estuary by the central beach. The outsider was about to jump when he heard a panic-stricken voice call his name. The look in his friend’s eyes nearly sobered him up in an instant, and a million pinpricks of dread and guilt washed over him. They talked on the bridge, and cried. And with a suave, rebellious urge, the friend implored that they leave town. This would be something Rick would regret later in life, but now, looking at the once youthful teenage renegade he’d saved that cold night, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride, and surreal happiness. They were alright. They were free. They were released. Forever.


End file.
